tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27139950210149790132024-02-19T15:28:45.591-08:00This Place Where I LiveLaura Myershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04998975777629819396noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2713995021014979013.post-64016379186980222262014-05-22T15:39:00.001-07:002014-05-22T15:39:39.863-07:00Song on repeat (part 2)<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/6xia2NsRoEk" width="560"></iframe><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Sorry for the radio silence of several weeks now. You know what's not very fun or inspiring? Looking for work. But don't worry, I will at some point have fun again. Specifically next week, when I'm escorting my grandpa to his 70th reunion at Notre Dame (wow). Then I'll be staying in Ohio for a bit, which I'm excited for. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
So my current song on repeat, posted above, is from the season finale of Nashville, a show that I adore. Campy television is the greatest television. It's a lovely reminder that you have a responsibility to honor the talents you've been gifted. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Last year, I kept a dry-erase wall decal above my bed with some inspiring quotes and reminders. Writing something down gives it power. If I still had that, the title of this song, "It ain't yours to throw away," would go on the board. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5dWxrczobmtEggAp2YMrMoWbQXRmyXjDY4DquLquMJqIdAsPWxcDQtgU2yAjgfhgj4g-vLQh6kCrU2bIJ1GsTT3D8jAfTcIv9A-LvgXXhLunE-7WBsMlXV0fAhFWKGj2iQA2cNHx7mSw/s640/blogger-image--396271686.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5dWxrczobmtEggAp2YMrMoWbQXRmyXjDY4DquLquMJqIdAsPWxcDQtgU2yAjgfhgj4g-vLQh6kCrU2bIJ1GsTT3D8jAfTcIv9A-LvgXXhLunE-7WBsMlXV0fAhFWKGj2iQA2cNHx7mSw/s400/blogger-image--396271686.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Points to anyone who can identify the above. We've got a country music lyric, a theme from my favorite book, a quote from a Broadway musical, one from a giant in the world of sport and one I made up myself when I thought my prom date had become a woman. (Long story short, it was a prank, which he thankfully revealed before I messaged him saying I no longer felt guilty about the crush I had on his brother.)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
And now for something completely different, I leave you with what I believe is a pet store, which I drove past in Flushing this week. Flushing is a weird place. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH5nwvUY6nneC5BYLE0kVWEbTZ7gtdu336HaRvmTINpn4uYvMdqBZ2pUlM6od01cJgFOCHCZGjeeOdYjGrPwJRHfPXHnh1fPYG_W1yXr7x63lL5GitsFdcl7563LDz1rBAGpoo1va4TvQ/s640/blogger-image-1939493057.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH5nwvUY6nneC5BYLE0kVWEbTZ7gtdu336HaRvmTINpn4uYvMdqBZ2pUlM6od01cJgFOCHCZGjeeOdYjGrPwJRHfPXHnh1fPYG_W1yXr7x63lL5GitsFdcl7563LDz1rBAGpoo1va4TvQ/s320/blogger-image-1939493057.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />Laura Myershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04998975777629819396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2713995021014979013.post-2239939878412805172014-04-28T12:54:00.000-07:002014-04-28T12:55:27.030-07:00NYC Consumption patterns: employed vs. unemployed<div>
I've noticed a serious change in my shopping habits in the last few weeks. As an economic major, I thought I'd analyze that data.</div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Things you consume when you're working a soul-sucking 9-to-5 job in New York City:</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif0NV0OrLbEj0bMSE2DQF-XFedLWOIHXCzieduFAF3euiF6DdgAJfvtVBVixlRjlqwxjo2HOkaYNKDoKVyMRHuQqWRcrq_e1lJd09mYJ4ipaoMY6eXWz9EULgfmED7f5WIWfL_iXvKqEk/s640/blogger-image--846506583.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif0NV0OrLbEj0bMSE2DQF-XFedLWOIHXCzieduFAF3euiF6DdgAJfvtVBVixlRjlqwxjo2HOkaYNKDoKVyMRHuQqWRcrq_e1lJd09mYJ4ipaoMY6eXWz9EULgfmED7f5WIWfL_iXvKqEk/s320/blogger-image--846506583.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<b>Bagels</b><br />
They're cheap, they're fast and, in New York, they're gigantic, so you can eat one at 8 a.m. and be full until lunchtime.<br />
<br />
<b>Coffee</b><br />
Because you had to wake up at 6:45. And you had to be at the office at 8:45. And you're still at the office at 12:45. And if you offer to go get fancy coffee for your boss, you can have a blissful 10-minute walk at 2:45.<br />
<br />
<b>Overpriced soup from Fresh&Co</b><br />
At $5 a cup, still cheaper than anything else you can get for lunch in Midtown.<br />
<br />
<b>Weather.com</b><br />
Always an appropriate office conversation topic. Helps you decide when to take your made-up errand walk.<br />
<br />
<b>Wine</b><br />
The classy way to forget your day.<br />
<br />
<b>Over-the-counter sleep aids</b><br />
Because you've had six cups of coffee today and need to wake up at 6:45am tomorrow.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Things you consume when you're unemployed in New York City:</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjahRtek86ghrfhnEK0-AJM68hC_5TXds0uWSzmf6gn1tW_gcae1F9JMZRyjNuKaVU1y821Eynqq7P7W08wrMEkaXjjiJakmRWOzp73I4mDLNBfAtfso_mWsDOFyIHVg-CXs1G4TihqAOY/s640/blogger-image-1827031090.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjahRtek86ghrfhnEK0-AJM68hC_5TXds0uWSzmf6gn1tW_gcae1F9JMZRyjNuKaVU1y821Eynqq7P7W08wrMEkaXjjiJakmRWOzp73I4mDLNBfAtfso_mWsDOFyIHVg-CXs1G4TihqAOY/s320/blogger-image-1827031090.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<b>Cereal</b><br />
Because you have time to eat at your own house in the morning.<br />
<br />
<b>Tea</b><br />
Because you have time to prepare your own hot beverage in the morning.<br />
<br />
<b>Scratch-off lottery tickets</b><br />
Better chances than sending off a resume. Less painful rejection than sending off a resume.<br />
<br />
<b>Beer</b><br />
It's Monday afternoon and you've got nowhere to be.<br />
<br />
<b>Ben & Jerry's</b><br />
Screw you, Editor Pants.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Things you consume regardless of your employment status in New York City:</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimyHNVrfFxe4Muwqu1p9lDxRynSbF3Lj5b93sYMVGHPmr7wvr2PChN3OOCZl0ru2H8EW0-HYkSPfP0P5MzirWGTYApIqltBpfGFdJZ_EQnjHFPy9xtNpSh3jGX3XSf1CZ8uFq3_9lodJY/s640/blogger-image--1770875535.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimyHNVrfFxe4Muwqu1p9lDxRynSbF3Lj5b93sYMVGHPmr7wvr2PChN3OOCZl0ru2H8EW0-HYkSPfP0P5MzirWGTYApIqltBpfGFdJZ_EQnjHFPy9xtNpSh3jGX3XSf1CZ8uFq3_9lodJY/s400/blogger-image--1770875535.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Laura Myershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04998975777629819396noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2713995021014979013.post-42660846515029825922014-04-18T14:54:00.002-07:002014-04-18T15:00:27.390-07:00You That Pass: A little less levity on Good Friday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOs8ja17QjR1Ypk4sD4SiLjHJtemOjJJhJr6UqlYaaYL4hl1exucICBBbeZo0EfpQkWc6wc3cHnE7Evp0JE51Hc6M-bButC0yxrpqNHRdPPAppmGqBh8za4fGOFytOkkxtTO7it65N8o/s1600/Sign-Aug1937-You+That+Pass_001+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOs8ja17QjR1Ypk4sD4SiLjHJtemOjJJhJr6UqlYaaYL4hl1exucICBBbeZo0EfpQkWc6wc3cHnE7Evp0JE51Hc6M-bButC0yxrpqNHRdPPAppmGqBh8za4fGOFytOkkxtTO7it65N8o/s1600/Sign-Aug1937-You+That+Pass_001+(2).jpg" height="261" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Until recently, all I knew about my great-grandfather, Fred Myers, was that he was an English professor at Notre Dame who died when my grandfather was young.<br />
<br />
When I was in high school, my grandpa moved out of his big house into a small condo. My dad and I helped him with the cleaning and packing. My grandpa, the smartest man I know, who can still tell me stories about his day-to-day life as a switchboard operator in 1942, didn't feel the need to keep a lot of things around - turning my dad and myself into curators of what should be salvaged from the garbage cans.<br />
<br />
Among the things we saved from the dump was a collection of more than 100 pages of poems, letters, stories, syllabi and more that had been my great-grandfather's. It was a fascinating insight into a man who'd died 52 years before I was born.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Among these items was a letter from The Sign, a Catholic magazine, regarding payment for a poem he had submitted.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSRFCklTz4wvlfrmaJlCsFnRgywqZnDTTLtX5WOZ2jkK2k2hZgNiiK5uwpemMGKabuoHo311Dso0_EWbu1vbt6rwToNpWwsJjJf9XOHHj_Yq5YZBaTEe5ezX6ss0Z8jjKTjeSjhl_HbNU/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSRFCklTz4wvlfrmaJlCsFnRgywqZnDTTLtX5WOZ2jkK2k2hZgNiiK5uwpemMGKabuoHo311Dso0_EWbu1vbt6rwToNpWwsJjJf9XOHHj_Yq5YZBaTEe5ezX6ss0Z8jjKTjeSjhl_HbNU/s1600/photo.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After discovering that, I looked up the magazine, which no longer publishes but has a <a href="http://www.cpprovince.org/archives/thesign/thesign.php" target="_blank">searchable archive.</a> After finding out which issue contained the poem (August 1937), I contacted the archives for a photocopy.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
At the time, they were moving. I emailed occasionally after that, and finally received an electronic copy this past fall.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I also looked into my great-grandfather's past, aided by the <a href="http://www.archives.nd.edu/Scholastic/" target="_blank">archives of the ND Scholastic</a>. He was diagnosed with leukemia (which the Scholastic defined as a "rare blood disease") in 1933 and given two years to live. He doubled the prognosis and lived until June 1937 - two months before this poem was published.<br />
<br />
I printed the poem and framed it for my grandpa's 90th birthday in December. I was reminded of it today during the first reading at Mass and realized that its message of human dignity in the face of suffering is something we should all be mindful of on Good Friday. The poem as printed is pictured above; if it's hard to read, the text:<br />
<br />
You That Pass<br />
by Fred Irwin Myers<br />
<br />
Oh, you that pass me by upon the road<br />
With face averted and an eye askance,<br />
And ears stopped up complacently:<br />
You reassure yourselves that here I lie<br />
Through fault of mine.—<br />
My friend, you cannot know the chill<br />
Of wounds grown cold, the agony of one<br />
Who faces death alone and comfortless.<br />
<br />
I do not ask that you should carry me<br />
Up to the inn; or that you extend yourself<br />
For my amending; I would not have<br />
You oil my wounds with hands that shake<br />
Through fear of my contagion; you need not<br />
Dip the water from the ditch to wash my face<br />
Or bathe my aching throat and eyes:<br />
I have become inured to these!<br />
<br />
But could you tarry one short while<br />
That I might sense the warmth of sympathy<br />
The comfort of community and the feel<br />
That though your flesh does shrink from me<br />
You would not leave me quite alone,<br />
Not utterly alone and comfortless.<br />
Just stand across the road while you say<br />
"Hail, brother!" and I shall bless you everlastingly.</div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
Laura Myershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04998975777629819396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2713995021014979013.post-29600497678595582532014-04-18T09:38:00.001-07:002014-04-18T09:38:35.728-07:00A little levity on Good FridayHappened to watch this episode on Netflix last week - good timing! Barney Stinson explains why Jesus waited three days:<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/565FpbFhqpg" width="560"></iframe>Laura Myershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04998975777629819396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2713995021014979013.post-7714189169213800292014-03-13T11:25:00.000-07:002014-03-13T11:25:49.965-07:00An early dispensationWell, my Lenten promise hasn't fared too well this week. On Sunday, as has happened more than once in the last couple months, I became pretty sick. Like, no appetite for days sick. When moving makes you more sick, morale does not improve if there's nothing to do but stare at your cat.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi98HZhK7ywAPmvvOgol4mKr-ARglW3z2nqZveopbo3T0jVzz9G5FoDc-eu12ccbAQFcrbHyPE7A8oH_u3MvtFlwrGJTJHjLEXgpC39_gMlswwhYfRJp_3mKNp8YiIuqt9QeLouJGPFfFU/s1600/IMG_1844.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi98HZhK7ywAPmvvOgol4mKr-ARglW3z2nqZveopbo3T0jVzz9G5FoDc-eu12ccbAQFcrbHyPE7A8oH_u3MvtFlwrGJTJHjLEXgpC39_gMlswwhYfRJp_3mKNp8YiIuqt9QeLouJGPFfFU/s1600/IMG_1844.JPG" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>He'd be pretty if he'd let me wipe the goop from his eyes.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So, I've given myself a sick dispensation (that's allowed, right?) and taken to Netflix while preparing dinner, and social media while watching basketball and eating my dinner. But, to make up for it (and to figure out why I'm keep getting sick/to attempt to get better), I've given up gluten, dairy and alcohol.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I would take wine over the internet any day. Trust me on this. You know what Wine Wednesday is without wine? It's a freaking Wednesday. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzILfSIZenNtbnJd28TpRIPllah7zxyhAb_wJ_gD7eUY_SX1FU-L-JEiKREsjtGOCPcxKwkjgS0JVj6IzLme5yZLlZ_VDJ9LZe0Khs_hBxBwIB6GY4vXvUqwoPdzDNtN0ONz5vQCHC95E/s1600/IMG_1966.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzILfSIZenNtbnJd28TpRIPllah7zxyhAb_wJ_gD7eUY_SX1FU-L-JEiKREsjtGOCPcxKwkjgS0JVj6IzLme5yZLlZ_VDJ9LZe0Khs_hBxBwIB6GY4vXvUqwoPdzDNtN0ONz5vQCHC95E/s1600/IMG_1966.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>My dinner every night this week. Not that I'm complaining.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But if a diet consisting of nothing but fruit, peanut butter and avocados fails to make me feel better, the answer may lie in my gall bladder, a tiny organ no longer possessed by several members of my family. In which case, I ask for some intentions that I win the billion dollar bracket next month. I could get so many gall bladders taken out of me if I won that. </div>
Laura Myershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04998975777629819396noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2713995021014979013.post-87201512708412169852014-03-07T07:57:00.000-08:002014-03-07T07:57:22.134-08:00Song on RepeatI know I'm not the only one of my friends who does this, but I enjoy listening to the same song, on repeat, for long periods of time. If you've never tried it, do. Start with Adele's "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8glDy7OsHNs" target="_blank">One and Only</a>." It's a very cathartic experience.<br />
<br />
With no internet outside of work, I need to rely more on my limited iTunes collection. Because I can listen to the same songs all the time, it's not much of a problem. I've been rotating two songs very heavily in the past week, but this is my newest favorite.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/XfHJI7hD310" width="420"></iframe>
<br />
Yes, Hunter Hayes is basically the male Taylor Swift. I'm actually pretty sure that several of his songs are about Taylor Swift. When I first heard him, I thought he was a Canadian "American Idol"-type show winner. But it turns out he's been doing this forever and once played at the White House for President Clinton. So, validated.<br />
<br />
Anyway, this song is incredibly uplifting. It speaks to what I wrote about yesterday - namely, enjoying life as it happens. I highly recommend it.Laura Myershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04998975777629819396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2713995021014979013.post-75621255610533105942014-03-06T08:30:00.000-08:002014-03-06T09:04:00.537-08:00MovementsPeople spend nearly all of their time moving in ways they don't need to control consciously: breathing, blinking, swallowing, etc. We came into the world knowing how to do those things. Other movements have become so common that we no longer have to consider them. Feet on the sidewalk. Fingers on a keyboard. Once upon a time, I would have listed front crawl and flutter kick.<br />
<br />
Last night, I realized I have another unconscious movement, something I do without even thinking about: thumb on a touchscreen.<br />
<br />
Which brings us to Lent. I don't know about yours, but if my ashes had been a Pokemon, they were most definitely Squirtle.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy5jwBY6Bb8YQ1cgzeO09IrtYRWCRLXks2eCfHs3q6uoiJBap5hqSA6prhltFPisP35ZAIRPU8Ivpj6lEew8V2iNadmJ2gIc0JR6JrB7tCvxPyTJNSwcLZwzjfsEWp6bTI_AQhJEzNRWM/s1600/Squirtle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy5jwBY6Bb8YQ1cgzeO09IrtYRWCRLXks2eCfHs3q6uoiJBap5hqSA6prhltFPisP35ZAIRPU8Ivpj6lEew8V2iNadmJ2gIc0JR6JrB7tCvxPyTJNSwcLZwzjfsEWp6bTI_AQhJEzNRWM/s1600/Squirtle.jpg" height="183" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
For years, I've had a bad relationship with Lent, because I didn't like how most people approached it yet couldn't commit to coming at it from what I believe to be the correct angle.<br />
<br />
Let's be honest: In high school and college, Lent is nothing more than an excuse to go on a diet. Sweets. Chocolate. Meat. Bread. I still recall my senior year of high school, when I gave up cookies* and ended up having more than one philosophical conversation about what food category Pop-Tarts belong in.<br />
<br />
As the years went by, it bothered me that the "what" seemed so much more important than the "why."<br />
<br />
In today's Gospel (and in one of the most quoted Bible passages you can think of), Jesus says, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me." And of course, when you get your ashes, you are reminded that you will one day be ash.<br />
<br />
In one way, those two ideas form a straightforward message. The material world will perish. Deny the material world and prepare yourself for what's next. And so giving up chocolate becomes a symbol, your tiny act of reconciliation and rebellion. You don't need chocolate to survive. Man does not live on bread alone.<br />
<br />
But I always thought the message was more complex. Every day is a movement toward that ash, and you move in the same way every day. You walk the same paths, do the same work, breathe, blink, swallow, sleep. The material world will perish, and you're not even paying attention. But now it's time to be mindful, to live with intent and awareness. Lent shouldn't be a tiny rebellion. It should be a radical revolution in your daily routine.<br />
<br />
See how that would be harder?<br />
<br />
My daily routine goes something like this: Wake up, go to work, leave work, get home, Netflix. On Wednesdays, I have wine.<br />
<br />
So, in the hopes of attempting to enjoy the opportunities around while I have them, I've given up using the Internet outside of working hours. In theory, this frees up my time to go to the gym, take classes, read books and magazines that I have but never finish, write, reflect, etc.<br />
<br />
In practice, I probably should have actually made a schedule of things to do. Not using the Internet is boring. Seriously, what did we do with our time before smart phones?<br />
<br />
Yesterday, I had my usual wine plan, which generally begins at 9pm. (Ash Wednesday fasting rules says one meal, two snacks. It does not mention wine.) I kind of gave in to boredom before that - I read for a while, then I watched a DVD. I texted quite a few people, which is how I discovered the phenomenon that is my hand: Every time I closed out of my text messages, my thumb immediately swiped left, hit two buttons and, boom, I was in Twitter. I had turned the data off on my phone, so nothing loaded, but I was in the app. Each time I realized this had happened, I clicked out of Twitter - and my thumb immediately hit the Facebook button. It's a motion I probably make 10-15 times a day.<br />
<br />
I'm happy to try to break myself of that habit, and hopefully will be able to replace my current habits with better ones, staying busy and boredom-free, but not routine. This is the challenge of Lent, in my mind: Not giving something up, exactly, but changing how you interact with some piece of the world around you.<br />
<br />
So, to re-phrase my Lenten promise: As I move forward through the next 40 days, I won't pass the time. Instead, I'll do my conscious best to live.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*If you think cookies were an invalid choice because, really, how many cookies does one eat in a given amount of days or weeks?, then you did not go to my high school. </span>Laura Myershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04998975777629819396noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2713995021014979013.post-14875093565309345012014-02-17T12:53:00.001-08:002014-02-19T11:12:51.052-08:00Jimmy Fallon is probably not my future husband<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/sWEfszb9h8Q?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
I love, love, love made-for-TV Christmas movies. They are all exactly the same, and I can't get enough of them. This year, one such movie starred Candace Cameron as the daughter of a real-estate mogul who goes to check out a small-town skiing resort they had purchased with plans to turn it into a party destination rather than the family-friendly, log-cabin haven it is now. She naturally goes cross-country skiing with the son of the people selling the resort, who happens to be very attractive and nice and teaches her all about how family is important and blah blah blah. This one was actually not the greatest. The point is, at one point Candace Cameron is talking to a little girl while at a buffet line. The little girl tells her about the <a href="http://www.catholicculture.org/culture/liturgicalyear/activities/view.cfm?id=972" target="_blank">Feast of St. Thomas</a>, during which if an unmarried woman steps into bed over a stool, throws her shoes at the door and sleeps with her head at the foot of the bed, she'll dream of her husband-to-be.<br />
<br />
I happened to be at home in Ohio when I watched this movie, and the Feast of St. Thomas happened to be Dec. 21st, which was the next night. So, why not? I did not step into bed over a stool (What does that even mean? Use a stool to get into bed? Place a stool next to the bed and then physically step OVER it?) and I'd been in my PJs for hours, so I had to go track down my shoes in order to throw them from my bed. I put my head at the foot of the bed, and I fell asleep.<br />
<br />
That night, I had a dream about Jimmy Fallon.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Jimmy Fallon is 15 years older than me. Also, he is married. So, probably not in the cards.<br />
<br />
But tonight is an important night for Jimmy Fallon, and tomorrow is an important day for me.<br />
<br />
Just as I decided that I needed to accept living in this town, I nearly found a way out. I've spent the last month in limbo, which really means I've spent the last month doing nothing but watching Netflix while eating fettuccine alfredo, waiting for one day to pass into the next. Today, that option got delayed. Not outright denied, not yet, but pushed back for at least four months. While I wouldn't mind a repeat viewing of Friday Night Lights, I really can't spend the next four months sitting in my room eating heavy cream sauce.<br />
<br />
I have begun working on a list of goals - a week, two weeks, a month, six months - and will continue working on it for the next few days. Some are easy and speak to how bad I've been over the past month. (Change the sheets!) Some are procedural, things I was putting off in hopes I wouldn't have to do them. (Register the car in NYC. Sign up for employer health insurance.) I don't know what the rest are. But they're important too.<br />
<br />
Tonight, the 17th will pass into the 18th. At 12:01, Jimmy Fallon will host his first Tonight Show. It's in New York City, something the town and the show are celebrating.<br />
<br />
I'll be watching.Laura Myershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04998975777629819396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2713995021014979013.post-11166189992297232002014-01-21T14:06:00.001-08:002014-01-21T14:09:31.061-08:00Slice of life<div>
I made chocolate chip banana bread for my roommate yesterday afternoon. I think he liked it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoh3wmTUfALEqTrFtP3PcWuu3HJHxs0sLTOD_TQydZv4KpKqrp7KJao-oPp41yPB71FGhisUvqAK7BbUEUyGeh_DJIUe0a7VWK-aBdm-OF6SeAPemKJT6hT4zI6IYXthy-eL2e8eeCeFk/s640/blogger-image-991820057.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoh3wmTUfALEqTrFtP3PcWuu3HJHxs0sLTOD_TQydZv4KpKqrp7KJao-oPp41yPB71FGhisUvqAK7BbUEUyGeh_DJIUe0a7VWK-aBdm-OF6SeAPemKJT6hT4zI6IYXthy-eL2e8eeCeFk/s400/blogger-image-991820057.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
Laura Myershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04998975777629819396noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2713995021014979013.post-82604739797735319902014-01-19T10:32:00.000-08:002014-01-19T10:33:18.537-08:00Sunday reading<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
I have an impressive/useless skill regarding my books: Pick any book off my shelf, and I can tell you where I acquired it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfwKBjoD9UAK_Om7kpD3mIcvJcIbjjzXxVaBPowdYN4h-QjEhEpVnwz2ODWUqqM_3uKA394pTWTv75NHsRor1lrgWxyXNTWYooTLGczjdlkL_IELB_4d9KEknik7dsCldMYrY68edkbxU/s640/blogger-image-548527885.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfwKBjoD9UAK_Om7kpD3mIcvJcIbjjzXxVaBPowdYN4h-QjEhEpVnwz2ODWUqqM_3uKA394pTWTv75NHsRor1lrgWxyXNTWYooTLGczjdlkL_IELB_4d9KEknik7dsCldMYrY68edkbxU/s320/blogger-image-548527885.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Shelf 1 of 2</b></div>
</div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
That Roger Angell collection up top? Bookstore on S Craig Street in Pittsburgh. The Scripps family history? Salt Lake City. Those Nora Ephron essays? A Friends of the Library tent at the TB Reads festival in St. Pete last fall. And so on. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I love old books for the same reason people collect coins and won't buy used mattresses: You can imagine their previous life. I've found pictures, postcards and even plane tickets in used books. Which brings me to the Sunday reading list. It's hard to have a weekly feature on a blog that's existed for three days, but let's try it out.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div>
<b>The book I'm reading now</b></div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
<b></b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxNV5AXkmK5-_5P9r-ZFXxSMTCx8jZuKLrBL22hVVhqUfUedsa5wYmqsn2qSkonwvdMhTJYCNC5sheo_pZwYzzSYLVjj3F6u_gL1N5WQFVU2fnTYGcFtQM-cmIy46nVSJj82UZMeSqSvQ/s640/blogger-image-1918821831.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxNV5AXkmK5-_5P9r-ZFXxSMTCx8jZuKLrBL22hVVhqUfUedsa5wYmqsn2qSkonwvdMhTJYCNC5sheo_pZwYzzSYLVjj3F6u_gL1N5WQFVU2fnTYGcFtQM-cmIy46nVSJj82UZMeSqSvQ/s320/blogger-image-1918821831.jpg" width="240" /></a></b></div>
<b></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><b>S. by J.J. Abrams and Doug Dorst</b></b></div>
<b>
</b></div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
I got this from the library down the street. Even though I don't own it and it's very new, it perfectly illustrates the love of old, hard-copy books.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
S. is the story of two people who exchange notes in a university library book. There's an actual novel:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqPshx2fzVadVc1xmymnQBrcqtsh0xUje3SY-HPNC19T1oCJdOYFgBeSHxAtPfnFeSHxZ917SZrbB2b2srXP19hxd6XWcai8hZQWTFgNW046z-5wPy0QaNKmQGO8xQzWzwbm-O3zDO3s0/s640/blogger-image--1564610217.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqPshx2fzVadVc1xmymnQBrcqtsh0xUje3SY-HPNC19T1oCJdOYFgBeSHxAtPfnFeSHxZ917SZrbB2b2srXP19hxd6XWcai8hZQWTFgNW046z-5wPy0QaNKmQGO8xQzWzwbm-O3zDO3s0/s320/blogger-image--1564610217.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The two characters, Eric and Jen, interact in the margins.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq89cvVJ59sl7T1aJ1W65bC54SyTtm-GhsfWO48cjfjc7UpGSRoMqz2R2cZNhDE6nsCRd7D1AzKIFNaSBA21XbAh0z2UQ3P5kFqdIOrDloGuUIMkMDru0f2pr4Oy4MhH1RXtLosdaZYA4/s640/blogger-image-657195601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq89cvVJ59sl7T1aJ1W65bC54SyTtm-GhsfWO48cjfjc7UpGSRoMqz2R2cZNhDE6nsCRd7D1AzKIFNaSBA21XbAh0z2UQ3P5kFqdIOrDloGuUIMkMDru0f2pr4Oy4MhH1RXtLosdaZYA4/s320/blogger-image-657195601.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div>
Eric is trying to discover the mystery of the author's identity before his supposedly evil thesis advisor does. Jen decides to help. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm not too far in - it takes a while to read each page, and a J.J. Abrams mystery takes serious brainpower - but I love the very tactile experience of this book.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>A book about this place where I live</b></div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwU5YCakUQ8f6o5__Y1JxcF-TfEC-x8xcrIqB58kPt_AxnegbcJB7bBu4D8XAU2lj9y_ABXqXWVVy_EpJIadsrJNlnaOf6GuNfPqgyQEGZ0cT9ZdowkzXN576Xk-Et708INYSEZYyHjfM/s640/blogger-image-1364459448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwU5YCakUQ8f6o5__Y1JxcF-TfEC-x8xcrIqB58kPt_AxnegbcJB7bBu4D8XAU2lj9y_ABXqXWVVy_EpJIadsrJNlnaOf6GuNfPqgyQEGZ0cT9ZdowkzXN576Xk-Et708INYSEZYyHjfM/s320/blogger-image-1364459448.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Laura by Vera Caspary</b></div>
</div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
I found this in the free book box outside the used bookstore in downtown Wadsworth. It was published in the early 1940s, and this edition was printed in 1966. It's a classic murder mystery with a twist; a New York City cop is called upon to investigate a murder, but falls in love with the woman whose death he is trying to solve. The plot is actually surprising, and Caspary's sense of humor is both dry and feminine, something you don't find often in books written so long ago. Also, it was made into a movie that elderly people bring up to me whenever they learn my name.<br />
<br />
<b>Something short and thought-provoking</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Grantland published this piece, <a href="http://grantland.com/features/a-mysterious-physicist-golf-club-dr-v/" target="_blank">Dr. V's Magical Putter</a>, earlier this week. Its writer, Caleb Hannan, met with quite a bit of criticism for the story about a trans woman who claimed to be a physicist to sell "scientific" golf clubs.<br />
<br />
You can read some of those opinions <a href="http://gangrey.com/?p=5260" target="_blank">here</a>, <a href="http://jezebel.com/trans-woman-commits-suicide-amid-fear-of-outing-by-spor-1503902916" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/life/culturebox/2014/01/essay_anne_vanderbilt_dr_v_s_magical_putter_grantland_s_expos_of_a_trans.html" target="_blank">here</a>, and I'm sure each one links to more. What it boils down to, in my estimation: It's OK for a reporter to dig deep to uncover a massive consumer fraud. It's not OK for a writer to treat a trans identity as fraudulent or part of a cover-up, which is how the story's structure made it appear.<br />
<br />
<b>Something short and fun </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Because we're already on Grantland and we've got a whole extra day to Netflix-binge tomorrow: <a href="http://grantland.com/features/clear-eyes-full-hearts-lose/" target="_blank">An Oral History of Friday Night Lights</a>.<br />
<b><br /></b>
Happy reading. Clear eyes, full hearts. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Laura Myershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04998975777629819396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2713995021014979013.post-34735009836904762052014-01-18T19:22:00.000-08:002014-01-18T20:23:42.335-08:00Warm things<div>
It turns out that waitressing in Queens is not an incredibly lucrative enterprise. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As the weather turned cold this fall, I went through the supplies that had survived my year in Florida and found a single glove. I went to Target to buy new ones, and couldn't bring myself to pay upwards of $20 for a new pair. <i>Screw that, </i>I thought. <i>I can buy a $4 skein of yarn and knit my own win</i><i>ter gear</i><i>.</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
So, I made a hat</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNBKYivKTUP6K2a0yJzy0YdTJr5gZHEIhnyCzbiEQLvDJm_7-1V80JR6e8eg31unGrjgAvTWtObSOPZDjZmCLcoE05PeJjHSAqqev3sycEKbNK9AvW2PqNqisuhe0EvL5WwORumCFHRt4/s640/blogger-image--1622061801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNBKYivKTUP6K2a0yJzy0YdTJr5gZHEIhnyCzbiEQLvDJm_7-1V80JR6e8eg31unGrjgAvTWtObSOPZDjZmCLcoE05PeJjHSAqqev3sycEKbNK9AvW2PqNqisuhe0EvL5WwORumCFHRt4/s320/blogger-image--1622061801.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div>
and started on a mitten. The first one, I forgot to add a thumb. It was an elaborate sock.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The second one was a success that I marveled in for weeks. Which was a problem, because I only had one mitten. But, over New Year's, I finally made a second one.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I had a pair of mittens for nearly two weeks when I left one on the Subway.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwlWiseI0cwoFFB7-as8LZ3OtO2yirvGORk7vWkXufiQ-exXMHV9BXM4eRlRerSy5hgS1M07u44rymYPIX2QVNDpXz0BVctNJf4dUhu8s36eXwlY5cE46ZOUyKfwIo5dZvCVqo92S6_aM/s640/blogger-image--1288194101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwlWiseI0cwoFFB7-as8LZ3OtO2yirvGORk7vWkXufiQ-exXMHV9BXM4eRlRerSy5hgS1M07u44rymYPIX2QVNDpXz0BVctNJf4dUhu8s36eXwlY5cE46ZOUyKfwIo5dZvCVqo92S6_aM/s320/blogger-image--1288194101.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b>The widow</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
My goal for the long weekend is to replace that mitten.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Now, as anyone who knits or crochets knows, the first thing you do when you buy a skein of yarn is to ball it up. If you decide against doing that because, say, it's tedious and hurts your wrists, you end up with this.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOL3MoW08KX6B3l4ImhqJI94LuySR5niJFNPf_rfXBToZaW78Dyct72HvzLyhY93A0HO3v1Ey15yCt9OicxNDo-ai2o4ePwpq9Gsfcd_Q9psHEkWz1CpnabbkIjQ1IlmEyK5Lg-li_oO0/s640/blogger-image--1823166576.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOL3MoW08KX6B3l4ImhqJI94LuySR5niJFNPf_rfXBToZaW78Dyct72HvzLyhY93A0HO3v1Ey15yCt9OicxNDo-ai2o4ePwpq9Gsfcd_Q9psHEkWz1CpnabbkIjQ1IlmEyK5Lg-li_oO0/s320/blogger-image--1823166576.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Then this.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt8D8SO4GWgsFcElot5vISt1DKuv37oEbprCtL5MiP841WYHOpRt6OJfhyphenhyphengz6a60GOlKP2gti1DO_VtUYeUyGvYNRu3YyeL6UfsmTDUoD_urrHycm4UjtizFuZcgWGqSrk1mm16n4IXTQ/s640/blogger-image-1844324794.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt8D8SO4GWgsFcElot5vISt1DKuv37oEbprCtL5MiP841WYHOpRt6OJfhyphenhyphengz6a60GOlKP2gti1DO_VtUYeUyGvYNRu3YyeL6UfsmTDUoD_urrHycm4UjtizFuZcgWGqSrk1mm16n4IXTQ/s320/blogger-image-1844324794.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Then this.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJhDlyoDI11GfQ6f-2V9LuU9vRaesa90RA61c5qPJ2s7ug6ESzFNVWqQbr870ztsoG-go9a5mjofr2f5V3ZBWPWEnVE6tGHrnxfRPJQ8cRSx2udsZl4VI6oNCrBt6R4cSXbf3H0mf4ISo/s640/blogger-image-981225944.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJhDlyoDI11GfQ6f-2V9LuU9vRaesa90RA61c5qPJ2s7ug6ESzFNVWqQbr870ztsoG-go9a5mjofr2f5V3ZBWPWEnVE6tGHrnxfRPJQ8cRSx2udsZl4VI6oNCrBt6R4cSXbf3H0mf4ISo/s320/blogger-image-981225944.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Onward...</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1kppT_4YCTVSvVQsd0j6fbKnuiM8HfDT_7Raa7ISCtAS-7tgxC272FMjDE-SSJc8W6yKSmh5SWMxDT6Gpsjb48mfVVZPXmC7cZ2DjgNG33VsSN6vmZUd-NwMB_YCaoGkw57gROwR138M/s640/blogger-image-1151146475.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1kppT_4YCTVSvVQsd0j6fbKnuiM8HfDT_7Raa7ISCtAS-7tgxC272FMjDE-SSJc8W6yKSmh5SWMxDT6Gpsjb48mfVVZPXmC7cZ2DjgNG33VsSN6vmZUd-NwMB_YCaoGkw57gROwR138M/s320/blogger-image-1151146475.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
And, after an amount of time we're not going to discuss,</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4NuPE4anhKEVrmZZXTW7FgA2eKEas-RN67obL5fE48TVkiybCXytbLmVQ3UTBVbXkDtP4uV4Wef2teB7ijSCyvBR8nk2kxJ3LlD3co3poeTBwSPGzovvrY9KhWYtcIGEYr38QZ-R6Xls/s640/blogger-image-351863891.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4NuPE4anhKEVrmZZXTW7FgA2eKEas-RN67obL5fE48TVkiybCXytbLmVQ3UTBVbXkDtP4uV4Wef2teB7ijSCyvBR8nk2kxJ3LlD3co3poeTBwSPGzovvrY9KhWYtcIGEYr38QZ-R6Xls/s320/blogger-image-351863891.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Which brings me to the original intent of this post: My apartment is very cold, and earlier this week I invented the greatest Hot Toddy ever. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Granted, I'd never had a Hot Toddy before Thursday, so I can't really back up that claim. Here's what it's made of, though.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpyna5EVB58CvIEfwSc4Q1xUO9ZCxj-0KCi4lLh-x6nEAZMP0FcJJr2D292y0fA84N8sfvi5zKevwHhiTGAaHrL6XFmS1AWSUL_7MD-pjLEvcr2VVAn5b_6ZXBR0NSwnQIFcI93EAhA-w/s640/blogger-image-1908986907.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpyna5EVB58CvIEfwSc4Q1xUO9ZCxj-0KCi4lLh-x6nEAZMP0FcJJr2D292y0fA84N8sfvi5zKevwHhiTGAaHrL6XFmS1AWSUL_7MD-pjLEvcr2VVAn5b_6ZXBR0NSwnQIFcI93EAhA-w/s320/blogger-image-1908986907.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
I didn't have lemon, so I had to go a different direction, flavor-wise. The brown sugar takes the place of honey, because my roommate's jar of honey remains unopened. (You know how it's fine to borrow a small amount of pretty much anything your roommate has in the kitchen, but it's weird to open it? And then it's three years later and your roommate is sitting at Thanksgiving dinner telling the table about that crazy chick who <i>opened his honey</i>?)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
The cloves and spicy tea are perfect for a cold winter night.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
So, step 1: Brew the tea.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdlpskOwQL_npTFC54dUxuS4Ho4wvaLrdobIAnQASkN_9Yf0Ew-HwlH9VNBI89kXOHJ9f1PUKlMDquWBKRTUb1SRZGlKVelUn3N93QjUflTszBzi3xoysET3__MOOP8cJOnqiCtLG5KU/s640/blogger-image-1949869773.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdlpskOwQL_npTFC54dUxuS4Ho4wvaLrdobIAnQASkN_9Yf0Ew-HwlH9VNBI89kXOHJ9f1PUKlMDquWBKRTUb1SRZGlKVelUn3N93QjUflTszBzi3xoysET3__MOOP8cJOnqiCtLG5KU/s320/blogger-image-1949869773.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b>It's called a "tea buddy" and it's amazing.</b></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Two: Put sugar (about a teaspoon) and cloves (two dashes) in a pretty teacup.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicuoHhuRZf48jfJheBightF4qneXkmcIvd3ZOLhp1HyoTqu_iRcqD0zK6aAghaiMzP7-nw-RLn4xw7V2RAi6wloRBevbUTGtTFBTFuemV0NfscfbiB91cdbFP16MltznAKH-92n6hLjDM/s640/blogger-image-729762085.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicuoHhuRZf48jfJheBightF4qneXkmcIvd3ZOLhp1HyoTqu_iRcqD0zK6aAghaiMzP7-nw-RLn4xw7V2RAi6wloRBevbUTGtTFBTFuemV0NfscfbiB91cdbFP16MltznAKH-92n6hLjDM/s320/blogger-image-729762085.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Three: Add whiskey.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnB3PKpLFo2FGwAjDNQQSoC5ATHPyMbAdj2urBxoarr2qQsaC9PMBfVFQRbucqCsj41ZV-k_p2tTIV06GmhO8KhsiZi4MZocnuW_7lk3z7opJXafy0LAvF1FTiYl9tqc2m5SENr-JdEQw/s640/blogger-image--1826436352.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnB3PKpLFo2FGwAjDNQQSoC5ATHPyMbAdj2urBxoarr2qQsaC9PMBfVFQRbucqCsj41ZV-k_p2tTIV06GmhO8KhsiZi4MZocnuW_7lk3z7opJXafy0LAvF1FTiYl9tqc2m5SENr-JdEQw/s320/blogger-image--1826436352.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Four: Pour in brewed tea. Stir. Top with nutmeg.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNiGvZM_v2M8nd-t3LvZDsP3SgfezpuacZTKWliDHif6oMjksZ1liOOG1eHXlvMDFnbvGxnaFjUj-CaC3yQYvdbslxXMmpmukGFe2IxRG0utSSmHIKSyIDgJhWjiOD2XECDQqGHbAQnn4/s640/blogger-image--1698535421.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNiGvZM_v2M8nd-t3LvZDsP3SgfezpuacZTKWliDHif6oMjksZ1liOOG1eHXlvMDFnbvGxnaFjUj-CaC3yQYvdbslxXMmpmukGFe2IxRG0utSSmHIKSyIDgJhWjiOD2XECDQqGHbAQnn4/s320/blogger-image--1698535421.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
I hope this keeps you warm. I do not advise you attempt any yarn-based projects after enjoying.</div>
<br />
<br />Laura Myershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04998975777629819396noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2713995021014979013.post-70424123695892688742014-01-17T17:18:00.000-08:002014-01-17T17:19:44.290-08:00Why-O Why-OWhen I was 16, I lied about my weight to the woman printing my driver's license.<br />
<br />
"130!" I said, hoping she didn't notice the quaver in my voice or the extra eight pounds that were, at the time, hidden in my calf muscles.<br />
<br />
Five years later, when I renewed my license prior to my 21st birthday, the clerk didn't even ask - she just printed the 130 again. She clearly didn't see the extra pounds that had migrated to my hips, or she simply didn't care.<br />
<br />
Today, I lost that 130 pounds. The category doesn't even exist on New York state licenses.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEAmRBuhPWwTow09gktq5dsP3EsYpjxe8OwnlQvU5OZV7dCS4e6Z45mHNDbrV6oO1SD0ByShh32DqjBZcYTMaXjMtNR_csZXXINxVCb4UbQlBQRwxEq3umbEf8vw1DgI5QtHYjq-L1sxI/s1600/IMG_1757.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEAmRBuhPWwTow09gktq5dsP3EsYpjxe8OwnlQvU5OZV7dCS4e6Z45mHNDbrV6oO1SD0ByShh32DqjBZcYTMaXjMtNR_csZXXINxVCb4UbQlBQRwxEq3umbEf8vw1DgI5QtHYjq-L1sxI/s1600/IMG_1757.JPG" height="200" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b>So long, Ohio license</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I had to switch my license over, because it expires on my birthday, as do my car's plates. After putting it off for as long as possible, I went to the DMV after work today. Fifty-six minutes, two forms and $60.75 later, I was a New Yorker.<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVsRFjmb2sqDJ_CWvv9FHWwuRkCy4YNXvKnsdqZDSh2yoemoJSpgY9y3PTWgnUb-nz0lGsB-Ju1HyfbqQaZXGMpXW-pyUMU3f-ETUi6hrGteMzC7TOeifcuxjbHwjjXgMNouIg5y_CXhE/s640/blogger-image--595026704.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVsRFjmb2sqDJ_CWvv9FHWwuRkCy4YNXvKnsdqZDSh2yoemoJSpgY9y3PTWgnUb-nz0lGsB-Ju1HyfbqQaZXGMpXW-pyUMU3f-ETUi6hrGteMzC7TOeifcuxjbHwjjXgMNouIg5y_CXhE/s320/blogger-image--595026704.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></span></div>
<b>Watch out, world: I can buy booze again in 7-10 business days.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Does this new identity give me an obligation to be belligerently impatient as I wait for the bus or train? To run into people without apologizing? To - oh, God - cheer for the JETS?<br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=2713995021014979013" name="more"></a><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
People from Ohio have a reputation for being nice, hardworking and down-to-earth. Our biggest failing is <a href="http://www.policymic.com/articles/64665/what-is-the-most-screwed-up-thing-about-your-state-check-this-chart" target="_blank">how nerdy we are</a>. Our vote <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2012/07/18/politics/btn-ohio/" target="_blank">matters</a>. I like being from Ohio.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Last spring, I expressed a desire to bake cookies for a neighbor who had just moved into my building. My co-worker responded, "You are so from Ohio."</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Even though my driver's license says otherwise, I think that's still the case. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
When I lived in Pittsburgh, I wore Browns gear.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgthfUuPxphpqpv_dTQD8aJ68-8Y89hV55dB4fQCsYoiw2qf1idyfE_z15P0CTga_6o8BM-KpgG6Y1X5kuVo4URvEgeVf3hiK6_Kp3HIdZ4MTcZc5phmf2C8kVxxyM-204nWCkWKoWTTJs/s1600/IMG_0203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgthfUuPxphpqpv_dTQD8aJ68-8Y89hV55dB4fQCsYoiw2qf1idyfE_z15P0CTga_6o8BM-KpgG6Y1X5kuVo4URvEgeVf3hiK6_Kp3HIdZ4MTcZc5phmf2C8kVxxyM-204nWCkWKoWTTJs/s1600/IMG_0203.jpg" height="320" width="255" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>The hardest place to wear your colors</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I once attempted to skip a Notre Dame SYR dance to watch the Indians in the playoffs. As we sat on the bus, waiting to take off, my mom texted me that Travis Hafner had hit a home run (This was before smartphones and MLB.tv). The bus driver, at the same time, announced we were leaving for the dance. I started to cheer for the Tribe. Everyone else joined in. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Living in Florida for Halloween 2012 , I went as Ohio. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEOvAZARUj287BZyBlqtWXc5qCIKxowx02DKn-Xl5CWpT0ODwtRMr4KnwF76Vyn4SVDhyphenhyphenzeqQmS382B-FLYkhogp9wh8vvHKVBVEBvLGkWtTQmWzY-sDg0CHO9_ff49X9liqpeb-7KfNg/s1600/IMG_0526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEOvAZARUj287BZyBlqtWXc5qCIKxowx02DKn-Xl5CWpT0ODwtRMr4KnwF76Vyn4SVDhyphenhyphenzeqQmS382B-FLYkhogp9wh8vvHKVBVEBvLGkWtTQmWzY-sDg0CHO9_ff49X9liqpeb-7KfNg/s1600/IMG_0526.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>I carried a euchre deck in my pocket.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I don't think anyone will hold it against me for identifying myself as an Ohioan, license or not.<br />
<br />
If only they'd believe me if I said I weigh 130 pounds. </div>
Laura Myershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04998975777629819396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2713995021014979013.post-5280509125515744672014-01-16T18:15:00.000-08:002014-01-17T13:39:15.630-08:00A bit about meHere's a brief overview of me (and, most likely, what I'll blog about).<br />
<ul>
<li>I'm a big, huge unapologetic Domer. Go Irish forever and ever amen. </li>
<li>I'm also Catholic, but not unfailingly so. (Is anyone?)</li>
<li>I own more than 250 books.</li>
<li>I subscribe to six magazines and one newspaper.</li>
<li>I read a lot.</li>
<li>I mostly stick to the five main food groups: Cereal, Cheese, Mac & Cheese, Bagels with Cream Cheese and Wine. </li>
<li>I carry a corkscrew in my purse, just in case. </li>
<li>My dad thinks my writing is funny.</li>
<li>Pandora stations: Frank Sinatra for cleaning and cooking. Ke$ha for the gym. Charlie Worsham for everything else. </li>
<li>My best friend's name is Michelle and she makes peanut butter for a living. Kind of. </li>
<li>I'm terrified of ceiling fans. </li>
<li>I'll be 25 in February. Rachel and Monica were 25 when Friends started. </li>
<li>I like sitcoms.</li>
<li>While I watch sitcoms, I knit.</li>
<li>Baseball. </li>
</ul>
Laura Myershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04998975777629819396noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2713995021014979013.post-22631182758589790752014-01-16T18:00:00.000-08:002014-01-17T16:44:09.141-08:00An experiment in opennessHello,<br>
<br>
I have spent a good bit of time this week reading the (adorable) blogs of <a href="http://littlehouseinchicago.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">good friends</a>, of <a href="http://messagewithabottle.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">people I've never met</a> and of <a href="http://www.cedarsandtinyflowers.com/" target="_blank">people I once had an econ class with who now have incredibly cute children</a>. I admired the level to which these bloggers desire to share the ups and downs of their lives with friends and strangers on the web. I decided to join in.<br>
<br>
For years, I've resisted this urge to blog for one reason: I hate the word 'I'. I don't like writing about myself, talking about myself or, frankly, sharing in any way. That needs to change, and here's why:<br>
<br>
Six months ago, I made a fairly disastrous cross-country move to New York City. From the outside, it didn't look that bad; I quickly got a job as a waitress at a bar in Queens (<i>so </i>NYC struggling writer) and found a real job at a prestigious institution not long after. The reality was different, though. <div><br></div><div>I left my fun sportswriting job in Florida and moved north all on the word of a friend who wanted us to be roommates. He told me to get a one-month sublet for the month of August so that we could find a place to call our own starting Sept. 1. I'd been in the city for two weeks when that friend, one of my longest and closest, stopped returning my calls. We never saw each other. I have no idea if he even still lives in NYC.<br><div>
<br>
I still live here.<br>
<br>
I moved with the idea that this friend (and his myriad friends) would help me to become a more social, well-rounded person. What happened is I became even more withdrawn, which a young person in the city so nice they named it twice -- the second name is Manhattan -- has no right to be. And so, this blog is my experiment in openness, both to the world around me and to the idea of sharing that world. Wish me luck.<br>
<br>
- Laura<br>
<br></div></div>Laura Myershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04998975777629819396noreply@blogger.com2